Left 4 Dead 3: Dark Forest
by FrAz316
Summary: The survivors have escaped, or have they? follow them as they run from the infected, and their pasts in... Dark Forest
1. The Woods

Left 4 Dead - Dark Forest: 1 - The Woods(COMPLETED)

The surrounding darkness was swallowing, consuming all of Tommy's thoughts. He could remember the crash until they hit the ground. It scared Tommy to think what had happened to James, Griffen and Vincent.

The darkness had faded, and Tommy sat up. His head was spinning but he could see the flames spurting put of the crashed helicopter. It was a sort of horrible beauty, the flames dancing with the wind, trying to gasp for oxygen.

Tommy scrambled to his feet. His machine gun was sprawled in the wreckage. He scrambled over the debris to his gun. It was cold, even though flames were circling the area.

He could see Vincent in the seat, out cold. He didn't look dead. Griffen was lolling a few meters away, blood trickling down his face. James was nowhere to been seen.

Griffen rolled onto his side and coughed. His insides were killing him. It felt like his stomach was on fire, burning like the flames around him. He scampered to his knees and saw Tommy waving in a reassuring fashion. He returned the wave. Tommy pointed to Vincent, Griffen knew this meant he had to go check that he was ok. Pain shot through his legs instantly as he clambered to his feet, his legs just being able to support him. Fighting the pain, Griffen sauntered over to Vincent. The Pilot stirred as Griffen's cold hands touched him. He jerked then woke up and smiled at Griffen, the smile felt warming in the present situation.

Vincent, Griffen and Tommy searched for James for half an hour, after they had pried Vincent put of the Helicopter. They decided, that with heavy hearts, that they must keep going, it was the only option.

"Maybe he went on ahead, thinking we were all dead?" posed Griffen.  
"Yea... Maybe" mumbled Tommy under his breath, supressing his sadness.

The forest clearing was a dry leave path surrounded by two parallel Walls of trees. In the mid afternoon, it almost looked idyllic. As the trio walked, they were silent, trying to remember James.

Tommy was the saddest, barely being able to keep back his tears at the thought of his friend lying in the Forrest, dead. His weapon wasn't at the crash site like the rest of theirs. Griffen thought it was because he had taken it, but Tommy knew that it had fallen out the helicopter just before the crash. His memories of him were faded, probably because of the crash, but he could remember his face, his greying hair and his thin rimmed glasses. He couldn't think of it any longer, he had to complete the task at hand.

The silence was broken by the growl of one of those Prowlers at the station. Griffen shot it before it could pounce, it's shrill shriek piercing the air. More infected rushed through the trees and were shot down before they got too close. Running now, the trio made their way through the trail. A fork in the road stopped them briefly.

"The Nature Reserve or The Forrest Trail, pick" said Tommy"  
"Which one is more likely to have a safe room in it?" asked Vincent.  
Whatever one you pick, hurry up about it!" pressured Griffen, who was keeping the Infected at bay with his Assault Rifle.  
"The Nature Reserve, let's go" chose Vincent.

The path to the Reserve became more man-made as the trio fought through. Wooden railings were becoming more common and the trees were starting to spread out to form a sort of paddock. Then they got to the animals.

The animal paddock was a rotten carcass of it's former self, literally. The metal fence keeping the animals in had been torn through as though it was paper. Animal bodies lay on the ground. Entrails lay scattered on the ground a few feet away from the bodies. It was like something out of a horror movie thought Vincent. Then again, it hasn't been a normal week. Occasionally a few infected sauntered out onto the field. Tommy dispatched them quickly, he was too filled with grief to care what he shot at.

Getting closer to the Reserve now, it was brightly lit with searchlights. A low grumble was fading as it reached the trio. They couldn't distinguish what it was, but they were sure it wasn't good.

Grumble... It started to get louder.  
Grumble... It sounded as though it was closer.  
Grumble... It was too close for comfort  
CRAASH!

The paddock fence moaned and tore as one of those Goliath's from the rooftop crashed through the stable to the left. The wooden building crumbled and shattered to the ground. It charged, the same relentless look in its' eye as the one on the rooftop.

Tommy ducked under a broken wooden debris and took cover behind it. He aimed his rifle and fired a long burst. The thing took the shots and continued onwards, smashing into a tree in his way. The roots crumbled into shards as it was torn out of the moist earth. Tommy made a dive to the left incase it toppled over him. The thunderous crash almost drowned out Griffen's shouts from the safe room.

Griffen was an opportunist. He saw that Tommy was handling that monstrosity, so he, pulling a slightly dazed Vincent, made a dash for the safe room. They climbed up the wooden stairs into the red door, keeping it open for Tommy. Griffen had expected the boy to run towards him, but he was wrong. He just kept looping around the paddock, firing shots until the monster was limping, and badly at that. Griffen raised his rifle and aimed down the sights. He fired shots, long bursts, that clanged against it's head, knocking it over. The thud made Tommy fall over, his eyes filled with shock and tears.

"Tommy, run!"  
"Why?" Tommy was too shocked to properly reply.  
"I don't want more of them coming."  
"Ok?" He scrambled up and staggered to he safe room, falling up the stairs and had to be lugged in by Griffen and a still confused Vincent. Griffen took one last look and locked he door.


	2. The Nature Reserve

eft 4 Dead - Dark Forest: 2 - The Nature Reserve

Panting, Tommy sat on the floor, beside a pile of paper and folders. Whatever this place was, it must of been important. Vincent was lounging on a sofa while Griffen was examining the files. He kept nodding as he turned the pages, clearly it was interesting.  
"What is it, Griffen?" asked Tommy, still panting.  
Griffen threw the file to him, to which Tommy started to read.  
SUBJECT 1: BOOMER.  
Large, gelatinous creature. Oozes slime.  
Explodes when shot.  
Tests have shown ability for ooze to attract Common.

SUBJECT 2: SMOKER.  
Long, tall exhales smoke.  
Poison gas causes chocking.

SUBJECT 3: HUNTER.  
Enhanced ability to jump  
Claws able to rip flesh.

SUBJECT 4: TANK  
Super enhanced strength  
Enhanced rage  
Less intelligent

SUBJECT 5: WITCH  
Extremely violent.  
Subtle of if provoked.  
Crying means she is near.

Tommy finished reading, then gave the file to Vincent who read it as well.  
"Right ok, we use those names now. It'l make things easier. It looks as though someone has been here, so it's hopeful" Griffen took his Rifle and unlocked the door "Right, Let's go!"

The wooden panels of the Reserve was unkempt and filled with slime. Infected stood idle in the slime, sitting and rolling in the filth. The silence was deadly, but not as deadly as Tommy's bullets. The rifle tore through ones head, ripping it apart with deadly efficiency. The sound of the shots made the Remaining infected turn around and wail, one that made Vincent jump. As they started to run for them, Tommy made a dive over the stairs to the main lobby, firing a spray directly to the bodies bellow. Dropping them, Tommy knelt while Griffen and Vincent topped the remaining few left.  
"If we get outside, there's a hut that we can stay in. I've seen it when I fly over all the time." Vincent said, reloading his gun.  
A set of double doors connected the room to a corridor of stuffed animal. Sadly they had been replaced with infected, gnawing at the lifeless stuffing. Dispatching them easily. They proceeded through the corridor, hitting another room, filled with something they didn't want.  
Boomers.  
The fat, bulging spots covered their faces, obscuring their looks further. The smell was rancid and made Griffen retch. Vincent covered his nose as he walked in behind Tommy. He was still on a mission, all Tommy wanted was to find James.  
"Boomer!" yelled Vincent.  
On cue, hey turned, waddling towards the trio with a gurgle. Griffen shot. The puncture sounds of the bullets were masked by he splash and explosion of their bodies. The chain that was set off shook the entire building, spraying it in green goop.  
"Well, that's that..." Tommy was about to say, but he was cut off by an inaudible scream, followed by yells. The horde had the goop on their scents, and they were close.  
"Outside, now!" shouted Griffen, making a b line for the back door, a simple wooden sheet. The horde was close, pouring through the double door of the room they were just in. So close. So close.

The outside air was a relief from the rancid smelling bile. Instead of waiting, they scouted the Cabin, and ran towards it. As they got to the door, opening it with a hesitation, they turned to face the horde. Too bad it was root in front of them. Tommy heard a click from behind him but before he turned to look, he was knocked to the ground by an infected. He could just See Vincent and Griffen slaying the waves. Rajiv his attention the the Infected, it was so close to him, it's sickening breath pulsating on his skin.  
Click.  
Bang.  
Bang.  
Bang.  
The zombie died, keeling over beside Tommy. Scrambling upwards, Tommy saw his saviour. Not Vincent, not Griffen, but someone else. Someone he was glad to see.  
"James...?"


	3. The Fields

Left 4 Dead 3 Dark Forest 3: The Fields.

The body was slumped, panting for air, at the opposite end of the safe room. His hands were gripped tightly on the pistol, his clothes covered in blood, it's sticky feeling hung in the air around him. 

"James….?" Tommy's voice croaked, his brain trying to comprehend the situation.

He looked up, eyes darting from Tommy, to Griffen, to Vincent, in a loop. Then his mouth opened, speaking for the first time in what felt like ages to him. 

"Tommy… Griffen… Vincent? Is that you?"

"Yea man, that's us, good to see you alive, mate." Griffen smiled wearily, sitting down on the floor, back against the opposite wall.

Still shocked, Tommy sat down as well, Vincent joining him.

"…..How'd you get here man?"

James sighed, and then started to explain. " Well, when we crashed, I thought that was it for all of you, I genuinely thought you were all dead. So I took my stuff and carried on walking, through the woods until I go to the Nature reserve. I don't know how long you were there for, but did you see all of those files?"

"Yes, they have names?" Vincent cut in.

"Apparently, so it looks like everything has been recorded, and they have done experiments." Tommy continued on. "Anyway, I had started to run out of ammunition, and there was none in the safe room, so I had to resort to using my pistol. Then I ended up here, running low on ammo and a horde behind me, so I ran in, tried to shut the door when one of them jumped out from behind a bush and smacked me." He showed them the lump on his head. "So I killed it, but with little ammo, and an injury, I just decided to wait and see what happened."

Griffen had had enough; while he was clearly happy to see his friend, they had more pressing matters to attend to. "Sorry to cut you short, mate, but we have to get a move on, quick."

"Why?" asked Vincent, checking the magazine in his rifle. He found about ten bullets, and unenthusiastically loaded it again.

"If the sun goes down before we get to the next safe house, it'll be much harder, and there isn't any food here to last us. Come on" he removed the bar locking the red and silver door that led forward and motioned them with a sweeping of his hand in the direction of the door.

Grass. Grass, grass and more grass. That was all that lay out in front of them. It seemed to go on for an endless stretch, probably further than their eyes could imagine. The greenery looked lush, almost inviting considering the state they were in. James hadn't noticed it, but they all looked like tramps. Mud caked on their trousers and t shirts grime matted in their hair; they looked as though they had been crawling in the mud for days on end. Truth was they had.

Since the grass was long, but not long enough to come above their knees. That was good, as far as the soldier was concerned. As they made their way through the grass, he thought of this tactically. Lower grass meant les places for the infected to hide in, giving them less chance of surprising the group. It helped to be thinking about these things, and Griffen knew that from past experiences.

The grass was, as expected, wet. Maybe from rain that they hadn't noticed, or maybe from some other source, they didn't want dwell on the thought. All they were focused on was conserving ammo, which was priority one as far as concern went.

They were down to their last magazines, each and every one of them. They needed them desperately, more so than they needed food. They had been through quite a bit these past few weeks, so they knew what the consequences of not having it. Regardless, they continued onwards.

A few infected wandered around idly in the plains, the sun set painting them in a very eerie light. They were more translucent, their stench almost masked by the strands of light that drifted off their bodies. In thin wisps, it twirled outwards until it faded back with the natural light. They looked even scarier, and they didn't want to think about what would happen with them in the darkness.

Raising his gun so his eye was level with the cross hairs, Vincent pressed in the trigger quickly, releasing two bullets from the barrel. They travelled at lightning speeds and smashed into the targets, knocking them to the ground with force. Not missing the opportunity, they all struck.

Dashing towards a lone infected, Griffen, taking his free hand and driving it into his knife satchel, pulled out the combat knife and stabbed it into the undead man's face. Moaning and dropping to the floor, it withered in pain for a few seconds and then laid silent, dead. Pulling the knife out, Griffen went on the attack again, charging at the nearest one to him. It suffered the same fate, Griffen's pace too much for them to handle.

Advancing nearer the horizon, Tommy, having spent of all his bullets from running away inside the Nature Reserve, had only one option, escape. Following James, he drew out his knife, a one much like Griffen's but slightly less battle worn, and was supporting him as much as he could. It felt good for him to be here, fighting beside him. It had been something that he missed. He was, in this post apocalyptic world, he best friend.

"Vincent! Vincent!" Griffen made a blind shout, drawing more of the infected towards him.

The masses of undead here was immense, much more than he had envisioned. They seemed to be coming from the dip in the now very close horizon, in small but effective waves, like an attack pattern. Maybe they were smarter than they looked.

"I'm getting to it, hold on!" was the reply from the pilot, who Griffen could see only barely through the circle of infected that were around him.

Valiantly he stabbed, not taking time to check if they were really dead, only making sure they were far enough away from him. Kicking, punching, screaming as he landed hit after hit after hit to his attackers. His fists were getting sore, his strength starting to drain out of him. He didn't even feel as though he had any breath left, his system solely running on adrenaline. He could feel his time was running out.

Or not? His ears started to ring, a familiar sound travelling towards him. 

Bullets. 

The pack of infected, formerly solely focused on him, had now set their gaze on the source of the shots, but not for long. Before they could react, they were lying in pools of their own blood, completely caught off guard. The smell of cordite filled the soldier's out of breath lungs. Someone was looking out for him.

"Told ya', man. Sorry if I was cutting it tight, I had to save the bullets somehow!"

Looking up, following the source of the voice which he easily recognised, he saw Vincent, panting like a dog, his MP5 lying on the ground, a thin waft of smoke drifting upwards from the barrel.

"Took you long enough." Griffen jokingly responded. "Where's the other two?"

"Over there" Vincent pointed with his left hand at the dip, his right hand offered to Griffen to help him up, which he accepted with a grunt as he got back onto his feet.

The Sun was setting over the white topped mountains far in the distance, just drifting over the horizon as Vincent and Griffen made their way to the dip. James and Tommy were gazing off into a distance that the other two couldn't see yet. As they came in line with the other two, expecting to find a shallow incline, they were rudely mistaken.

It was a valley, vast and expansive that seemed to revel in its own superiority. On the side they were standing, it was grass, much like the flat lands above them. The grass was shorter, and has muddy footprints engrained into its body, evidence that the infected had been here. A few dead bodies littered the embankment, all infected corpses. Someone else had been here.

On the opposite side, however, was something completely different. As the bottom of the valley stretched up into a steep uphill battle, jagged rocks and boulders lined the ascent. There was no grass on this part of the land, only brown, aged stone that had probably been here as long as the world had. In the dusk, it looked like a skeleton, winding and twisting around until if ended with the flat land above, which didn't look too safe either. They could see a few dots here and there, standing still as if they weren't aware of anything. 'Infected' Griffen thought aloud.

Something else caught their eye, something that should of done so to begin with. Down bellow, on their side of the valley, was a house. It was wooden, like cabin, but it had been reinforced with corrugated iron and fences so it looked like it was a mini fortress. Those same fences were also around the "base" as well, stretching far away to the right and left, acting as a barricade, chain linked and barbwire topped. No one, not even infected, was going to get over that wall.

"What's our chance of getting in that place?" James asked, his eyes surveying around the structure, looking for an alternative way over it.

"Let's go find out, shall we?" Tommy said with a smile, a thing all of them had been devoid of for a while considering the situation that they were in, as he started to slide down the wet valley, the dewy grass carrying him like a waterside with his flat soled shoes.

The rest followed, but in a more sensible manner, being careful not to fall on top of one of the carcasses that lay in their path. All of them looked most certainly dead, looked being the key word. They didn't want to find out. Sadly, fate had it in for them.

"AAAAHH" came a scream from behind Griffen, so loud and piercing that it could of woken the dead. It was Vincent.

On the ground, fighting off his attacker was the pilot. He was struggling, not letting it get a bite on him. His face was stuck in constant fear; the infected's one of contorted, blank anger. It wouldn't give up until it was either killed or it had had its meal, the latter Vincent didn't wish to experience.

It looked like all hope was lost, as they had no weapons to shoot it with and any movement near it would have possibly spelled the end to their comrade. The next few seconds seemed to pass in slow motion. From behind them, a click was heard, which turned into a brief flash, only for a fraction of a second. From then on the events sped up into real time, disorientating Tommy who was trying to keep up.

Smash. The round slammed into the spinal cord, just at the foot of the neck. It crunched the bones inside like a car compactor, separating the head from the body instantly. The high velocity rounds were used in situations where instant kills were necessary, and this was one of them. The undead body stopped its struggle, turning limp on top of Vincent's still cowering body. None of them knew where it came from. Was it a gift from above? Or was someone else here?

"Get your friend and get in here! The doors unlocked!"


	4. The Rock Valley

Left 4 Dead 3 Dark Forest 4: The Rock Valley

Hauling Vincent to his feet, Griffen helped, more dragged, his friend over to the dark steel door of the cabin, Tommy and James following suite. It felt cold, a sense of "I could withstand a nuclear blast" radiating around it, and by the looks of things, so could the building. The metal fences that lined both left and right had blood painted on the barbed wire tips, making them feel strangely safer. Why they may never know.

Getting a grip of the brass handle of the door Griffen twisted the knob and pulled. Iron bolts creaked inside the foundations of the building, and a clicking noise gave the indication that he could pull, but he didn't have to. As soon as the bolts were in place the door burst open violently, revealing the figure of a man, his arm raised in front of him. In his hand nested a .357 Magnum, the cocking hammer on the end of the gun positioned to fire, this guy wasn't kidding around.

"Get in! Now!" he shouted, flicking the cocking hammer, merely so they would do as he asked.

He looked rough, like a survivalist just out of the jungle. He had a rough, "more than stubble but less than a beard" growth of hair on his face, and his hair was a messy dirty blonde. His commando khaki t-shirt and olive green trousers meant he was with the army, or was at least. The dog tags that dangled dimly around his neck confirmed this.

Three out of the four survivors were terrified, but Griffen was the exception. He stood stock still and steely eyed, staring out the man's threats.

"You heard me!" the man lightly pressed in the trigger of his Magnum, trying to entice fear in Griffen, but it wasn't working. "Get in or I'll kill you all!"

Griffen, noticing the seriousness of his adversary's threats towards him, not to mention his friends, dropped his glare and walked inside. The other three followed, now much more unnerved about being here that they were a few minutes ago.

The house smelt of warmth, the source of which was a log fire burning in the centre of the room they were standing in. It left an aura around each and every figure in the room, being the only source of light now that the sun had finally set, and there were many.

They all sat, some on couches and some one arm chairs, each minding their own business. There were five, not including the survivors, and six plus their greeter at the door. They didn't seem to be bothered about their new guests, choosing to continue their activities that they were doing previously, reading, writing and merely brooding.

The attention now was back on the man from the door, who still had the same look of "listen good, son" on his face. Slamming the door, he twisted the knob and the bolts moved back into place.

"How in God's name did you get here?" he asked, not trying to make it sound as though he cared.

Griffen answered, unfazed by the man's brash attitude. "We are survivors, and we are travelling to find a way out of here. It just so happens that we passed through here, looking for a place to stay."

Taking in what he had just heard, the man spoke again. "What about the service hut back over the field?"

"Empty."

"The Nature Reserve?" his voice seemed to soften.

"Exactly the same, the only thing in there was a couple of old reports." He unfastened his backpack, something which he hadn't done since he had put in the contents he was bringing out at the Nature Reserve, and produced the files on the "Special Infected".

Taking them out of his hand, the man flicked through the pages, nodding at the end of each one. Even his friends were now interested, dropping their things on a wooden coffee table in the middle of their circle and craning their necks to see what was going on.

After a silence, the man spoke. "Well, this is a new turn of events for us. We weren't aware of these new infected." His voice had now softened to that of a normal talking voice, he seemed in his element. "I apologise for the rough greeting, we don't see many people, and if we do they usually are infected. Recently they had been starting to crowd around us, as I'm sure you saw on your approach. I thank you for dispersing them."

Seemingly content with this explanation, Griffen dropped his tough presence, reverting back to his friendlier demeanour. "Don't mention it, but who are all of you? Why are you here?"

"We" a voice from the circle answered "are just a bunch of lucky travellers who managed to stick together and find this place. All of us know how to fire guns, and we have enough ammo to start a small war, so we think we are pretty safe."

"That's something we share in common then." Piped up Vincent, still visibly shaken, but calming down. "Except without the ammo."

That got a chuckle from the circle and the man at the door. The survivors chose to stay silent, not wanting to impose themselves too much. Smiling, their greeter began speaking once again.

"Well I see introductions are in order." He walked over to the circle of seats, standing over one of the men on the couch. "This is Chris, our Scots lad." The man he was referring to was the one that saved Vincent and had already conversed briefly with them, he seemed all right. His blond hair reflected off the firelight nicely. "We've also got Upham and Madrid" he indicated two more men, small and thin and tall and lanky respectively. "And finally we have Bourbon and Travis."

Griffen didn't know about Travis, but he knew something about Bourbon. Just from the look of him he could tell he was ex military. By the way of his uniform, he was in the Russian SpecOps, a shady branch that no other armed forces could really tell whose side they were on. He just sat silently, arms folded, while his "commanding officer" introduces them.

"And I'm Miller, nice to meet you." He stuck out his hand, which Griffen took "We are not a military detachment, merely a collection of armed individuals. We think of ourselves as one, though." he winked.

"I'm Scott Griffen, this is Tommy, James and Vincent." He indicated to each respective member of his group. "We only want a way out of this place. You could call us Survivors."

"Aren't we all, son, aren't we all." Miller sighed. "Now, since you are here, we have a proposition for you all."

This intrigued all four of them; even Griffen couldn't contain all of his curiosity.

"We're listening" he half causally spoke, half anxiously shouted.

Miller took a breath, and then started to speak. "OK, here's the deal." happy tone off, this was serious stuff now. "You need guns and ammunition, we need to scout ahead. My deal is that if you accompany some of us over those mountains, we will give you the ammunition and guns to do so." he was short and too the point, very professional."You are going to the train line?"

"We are going to a train line?"

"Well, if you want to get over those mountains you are." Miller laughed, and then continued. "So what do you say, deal?"

It was a no brainer. "You got a deal, Miller." Griffen responded, a smile gracing his face.

"Good, I'm glad. Now, let me show you to our armoury." He winked again, pointing them in the direction of a door to the left of their sitting room.

And what an armoury it was. It was amazing that they hadn't smelt the gun polish or cordite from the top of the crest. Mercenaries, Freelancers, call them what ever you want, these people were professional.

It looked like a proper quartermaster's shop from his Army Barracks. The guns lined the wall in a neat, class based system. Pistols on the right, Assault Rifles next, and so on and so forth. The room was so packed Griffen didn't even know what the original colour of the walls were, but they looked brown, he thought anyway.

"Please, take what you want. Our gift." Miller smiled, waving his arm to signal they could tuck in to the weapons.

After an intensive few minutes of thought, each of the four men finally made their choice.

Griffen took the standard Army issue, An M-16 with a grenade launcher underbarrell. He picked it for the simple reason that he could work it, it was that easy. Never mind fancy weapons, the ones you knew were the most important. He could take apart and assemble this gun with his eyes closed, all the more reason to have it.

For good measure, he also helped himself to an M4 Carbine. He figured since he wasn't carrying any backpacks, he had disposed of his, there was nothing of importance in it since they had eaten all their food and used all their ammunition, so it would he a nice addition.

Vincent had been more eccentric in his choice of weaponry. Instead of thinking about the ammunition needed, the weight of the gun compared to his physical strength, he went for the "big guns, little problems" approach. Going for the SPAS 12 like a rocket, he had already loaded the shells he had hastily grabbed off of Chris, who turned up out of interest.

The other two kitted up with AKs. They didn't really know what to do. It was all over their heads on the technical parts, their only requirement was if it could shoot, it was fine. Their naivety was amusing to Griffen. They really knew not a lot about the world he came from.

Once they had spent time with their new toys, Miller called them back in. "All right gentlemen, you will be accompanied by Myself, Chris here" Chris waved, smiling at the chance to get out and about killing "and Bourbon."

That left a distaste in the soldier's mouth. He didn't particularly trust him, just from the military organization he was with. It was cheap, but he couldn't hide his gut feeling from himself.

"We are leaving at sunrise, so get prepared." he stood at attention. "dismissed!"

In only a few hours from them being dismissed, they were up and raring to go at the exit door to the cabin. It was a door directly opposite the entrance, on the other side of the sitting room. It made sense, some how. Three of the seven faces looked full of nerves, and it would be easy to guess which three. People are trained to tell guilty suspects based on their actions, and the three inexperienced survivors would of failed on the first interrogation.

The one called Travis, a "I've seen things" type of guy, opened the exit door, unlocking the bolts with a key. He had a pistol, a Glock 17, cocked and in his free hand. If he was expecting to need it in the task he had, there was no chance they would survive the trip.

"Good luck, don't die." was his simple parting phrase, putting the guys on even more of an edge.

As they stepped outside onto the grassy downward slope, leaving the safety of the cabin behind, Griffen was just glad to be back outside. Infected or not, it was TO safe in that cabin.

The sun was just rising over the mountains, high enough for them to see, but not enough for them to see well. It was a dusky, sort of cold feeling, even though it was quite the polar opposite. Tommy put it down to how near they were to the mountains and focused on the main threat to them. The rocks.

The flat, dewy grass came to a complete halt, petering out into a dusty stretch, only a meter or so, which then rose up at almost a ninety degree angle. It loomed, completely blocking out the sunlight, immersing them in near enough pitch black darkness.

Fumbling around for solid rock, Griffen eventually found his footing. What his foot made contact with was certainly rock, and it wasn't slippery. Good, that made things easier. At least his death by falling couldn't be blamed on bad conditions.

He had done this before, well he had been rock climbing anyway. It was the simple process of putting your left foot in a grove, pushing yourself up and placing the right foot in a higher groove then rinse and repeat. Too bad that was with a harness on, where safety was guaranteed and the likelihood of dead by falling was slim to none. Out in the wilderness, all you had was hope that the groves were big enough and your hands didn't sweat too much.

Putting his left foot in between two rocks, he pushed himself up onto the next level of stone. This was the simple case of repeating what you were doing, never having a different move set from the one you had just used. Repetition is the key to climbing. He done the same movement, finding the appropriate groove and hoisting himself up. Chancing a look back, he saw Tommy, directly bellow him. Only two pulls up and he looked exhausted, as if the constant days of running from infected hadn't tired him out.

"How you holding up there, Tommy?" he asked, pulling himself up against the ridge onto the next layer of rocks, then doing the same again, so much so that Tommy's exasperated voice was almost too faint for him to pick up on.

"...Just... Just great... Thanks for asking." behind his struggling breath there was sarcasm.

Griffen wasn't sure where the rest of his "team" was, but he sure did know where Bourbon was. The Russian was about two layers in front of him, three meters to the left. He hadn't noticed, but he was wearing a dark red boonie hat, much the same colour as Tommy's beret. He probably hadn't noticed because he didn't care, or that it was too dark before; the sun just being able to creep over the top of the rock face to meet them, casting an eerie grey tone over them.

Further they went, the gaps between all seven of them becoming larger as time took its toll. Even Bourbon had started to slow down, coming even with Griffen, followed closely by Chris and Miller. Griffen's friends were lacking by comparison, who had all drifted away, just see-able in the dawn.

The two rifles on his back were starting to weigh Griffen down. In hindsight, it wasn't a good idea to have two at one time when climbing, the butt of both guns sticking into his neck. It was painful, but it had started to dull over time. It was only one more level of ledges, then he was fine.

Making one final push from a very precarious groove in the rocks, Griffen threw himself upwards, his hands making a grasp for the gravely surface. His hands were dripping with sweat, which stung his hands as the stones rubbed against them, making him recoil, just enough for his mind to think he was falling. Frantically kicking off of the rock face, he scrambled up.

Blind relief was the only thought running through his head at that moment in time, his pulse going from overdrive to just insane, which was a good sign. Inhaling deeply, then exhaling in the same manner, the first thing he had to do was check if everyone had made it.

He saw Bourbon, who was already set up in a covering fire position, weapon aiming into the distance, one knee on the ground. Periodically he would lower his rifle from his aim and check chamber, then went back into studying the arcs of the flat are. He was professional, it was as simple as that.

Chris soon clambered up behind the Russian, Bourbon dropping his guard to hoist him onto the flatlands. Miller and James soon followed, the latter out of breath so much that his heavy breathing could be heard from where Griffen was standing, about four meters away. Lastly came Tommy and Vincent, who collapsed on the stone chipped ground, sweating like pigs.

Giving them absolutely no time to rest, Bourbon was on his feet, taking charge from a tired looking Miller "OK, here's the plan." his accent was clean, crisp and harsh, like he was emphasising the end of each word. "We head forward, to the Train Station where we will rest. Then we work on the controls to get whatever train we can find there operative again."

"How do you know a train will be there?" Vincent breathed, still sucking in the air frantically.

"I don't" Bourbon replied, turning and beginning to walk "now come one!"

All standing up, they began to march onwards. It was funny how none of them had noticed the train station. It was a large, red bricked structure with a flat, navy blue roof. Somewhat blending in with the red walls, but still visible by the steel bars, the Safe House Door beckoned them once more.

On approaching the safe room door, Bourbon, who was leading the group, unclipped the bar and hastened them inside. Griffen was last to enter, but before he could enter the safety of the station, Bourbon stopped him. His voice was low, as if no one wanted to hear it.

"You" he growled "Are helping me defend Miller while he fixes the controls."

Griffen not knowing how to react, merely nodded.

"I mean to harm to you, you must know. My badge shows nothing about my true personality."

Griffen nodded again, and shaking off the Russian, went inside. They were safe, but their final challenge awaits them on the other side of the station yard.


End file.
